


Midnight Muffin

by FeckedSpectrum



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Domestic, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-01
Updated: 2016-11-01
Packaged: 2018-08-28 12:27:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8445811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FeckedSpectrum/pseuds/FeckedSpectrum
Summary: Their fathers were gone. Her mother was ill and there was no one else to care for her. Lucifer knows this loneliness all too well, and he didn’t know he spoke it so fluently.
He’s baking Claire chocolate chip muffins.





	

It was dark outside, as midnight tended to make the night sky. Chuck was editing, as he had been for weeks. Heaven wasn’t giving him anything, if anything it was giving him writer’s block, and he was dealing with it with an itchy red pen. He didn’t have migraines anymore, so he allowed himself a cup of coffee. He thought he was the only one awake, the only one to enjoy the solitude that the late hour provides.

Claire walked down the stairs and into the kitchen, followed by Lucifer.

Chuck gathered his laptop and moved to the dining room table to eavesdrop, because his writing muscles were really itching with disuse. And besides that, Heaven wasn’t exactly providing him a neutral basis for Lucifer’s characterization. And besides that, his books could use some fluff, with the apocalypse and unknown ancient magic locking all the angels in another dimension, and the Mother of Purgatory running amok. Claire was a cute kid, and she should be bursting with fluff.

Claire didn’t talk to anyone but Lucifer. She stopped talking after Castiel took Jimmy as his vessel, but that was stress-related and temporary. After Castiel took her as his vessel, she stopped talking because she wanted to speak Enochian.

That’s why she and Lucifer were such good friends. They could really only be friends or he would destroy her for staining Enochian with a human tongue. Lucky for her, he was a little bit desperate to hear those old words. It felt as close to home as he could imagine.

They weren’t even talking right now. Pans clattered, milk sloshed in the jug, the egg carton squeaked as foam met egg. They were baking.  
At midnight.

Without saying a word.

The part of Chuck that was God was ever-so-slightly confused by this. Lucifer was baking for a human, and that sounded a lot like serving, which sounded a lot like bowing down.

But Chuck knew better. He knew that even though Lucifer was bone-dead tired, flitting between dimensions on less and less Grace, and that this act made him happy. He was an angel, always had been, and he was almost gleeful to be made useful. As soon as the angels were given swords and a soldier’s duty, they were all too eager to gut themselves.

Here he was, the only angel left on Earth, the miserable and wretched thing that crawled out of Hell to bring death to humanity, baking chocolate muffins for a girl who hadn’t even asked for them.  
And she stood beside them as they both watched the bits of dough in the stove, illuminated by the yellow internal light. Her head fell against his arm, for all the comfort her presence brought him, she needed it more.

Their fathers were gone. Her mother was ill and there was no one else to care for her. Lucifer knows this loneliness all too well, and he didn’t know he spoke it so fluently.

He’s baking Claire chocolate chip muffins.

How did he learn that? Who taught him to be a father?

Chuck knows who didn’t. He sees his face in the mirror, and when he does, he remembers how to smite people.

They are so comfortable together. Lucifer knows this. He knows that he’s so tired. He knows the weight of Claire’s little blonde head and her outstretched hand. It would be so comfortable, to stand in front of a stove watching muffins bake. They could trade names for stars. They could learn how to drive a car. He would have one hell of a shotgun to clean for any boy who would step foot on his porch intending to take Claire to the movies.

The end would be too perfect like that. Angels started gutting themselves as soon as God gave them knives. Lucifer isn’t going to stop any time soon.

But he is going to pour Claire a glass of cold milk, and try the midnight snack that they share silently.

Like so many other things.


End file.
